Professor Gryffin and the Potion of Inner Will
by C'est Elise
Summary: Dead. May tear down and rewrite.
1. The Beginning

Azkaban.

Bloody Azkaban.

This man had been in bloody Azkaban for nine bloody years.

Voldemort? Voldemort was still running amok on the outside.

It was not only Voldemort that caused this man to be so miserably imprisoned. It had been the man's own godfather who captured him, and had him thrown in prison. There had been a trial, the godfather had made sure of that, but all it did was prove that the man's innocence was nothing more than a false hope of the wizarding world.

He was guilty of everything.

He was guilty of everything, and had said so under the influence of Veritaserum.

He had murdered all those muggles, he had tortured countless muggle-borns and non-supporters of his master, and he had single-handedly almost destroyed the Ministry of Magic. He had also almost completely dismantled the Order of the Phoenix.

Everyone thought he was guilty. He even thought he was guilty, only in a different manner than the rest. He thought of himself as… innocent, yet guilty. Everyone thought he was guilty.

Everyone.

Everyone except-

As soon as the thought of the few witches and wizards who kept their faith in him came to mind, more than five Dementors gathered at the front of his cell, feeding hungrily off of his positive emotion that came so sparingly.

The presence of the Dementors erupted another wave of screaming and tears from the man. The man welcomed these emotions; the faster he became as melancholy as possible, the faster the Dementors would calm down. It took nearly a half an hour before they gave up on the man, and returned to their positions, finally leaving Harry Potter in peace.

Harry was a top-security prisoner, being, (the wizarding world thought,) the most powerful Death Eater alive and Voldemort's right-hand man.

He gave another subdued sob and made no move to wipe his eyes. Lucius Malfoy, in the cell next to his, laughed coldly.

Even Voldemort's supporters had believed Harry had come over to the dark side. Malfoy had just gone mad. Everyone had gone mad. That's what Azkaban does- makes people go mad.

Harry sat up, the only move he had enough strength to make. He was thinner than ever, and his hair had grown down past his shoulders, almost elbow-length. He no longer required the use of glasses, but his eyes had lost the familiar shine. They were now angry and cold, matching his sunken appearance perfectly. He had become incredibly pale, although his skin was nowhere near the waxiness Sirius' had looked when he escaped.

Sirius. The thought brought tears to Harry's eyes. Sirius had been the first to insist his innocence, but the things Voldemort had forced him to do... he had made nearly everyone change their minds- even Ron and Hermione, who had married right after they had left school.

The thought of his old best friends caused him to let out another dry sob, leaning his back against the cell wall. He was far too used to this to notice. Every time he thought of his old best friends, he thought of everyone else, which caused him to always sob uncontrollably until he would tire out and sleep. That was the way everyone in Azkaban was.

He remembered the horrible things Voldemort had made him do, as the Dementor outside his cell returned to his position.

He had made him cast the Cruciatus curse upon his own beloved Cho. He had forced him to do things he didn't even want to think about, but it was hard not to with the last of the loyal Dementors patrolling his cell. He remembered as one of them passed, the only three times Cho had been in the hands of Voldemort. Each had it's own specific horror that stood out vividly in Harry's mind.

Mentally and physically traumatizing horrors from ancient curses Voldemort had brought to light for his followers and the Fira Le Bronzora hex were part of the three traumatizing horrors she had gone through. One of them had even been before they had left school, when Voldemort was testing- the potion.

Harry pushed the thought from his mind, only for it to be replaced by more memories of her going through the Cruciatus- More than once.

That had been what had changed most everyone's mind. Everyone knew that Harry loved his Cho far too much to do something like that- but he had. Nearly all believed it after that night.

Why else would he do it? He remembered what it had been like and what happened that night, as another Dementor swept passed.

Cho was propped up against the gray stone wall, her arms and ankles shackled, her robes tattered and torn in places. Her long black hair, usually silky and smooth, was tangled and unkept. This was to be expected if you were held prisoner in a dungeon for two days straight.

She raised her tear-stained face as he entered the room, expecting him to be flanked by Death Eaters and carrying some sort of an antique muggle torture device. Instead, he approached alone, with nothing by his wand.

He stopped, his gaze following her up and down, as if appraising her. She wondered momentarily whether he had come to free her. But then he smiled. An evil, wicked smile, that caused her to shiver.

He kept that smile on his face and stood directly in front of her. She closed her eyes and looked away.

He found his wand and pointed it against her chest, humming some old song he had heard somewhere before. It seemed faintly familiar, though he couldn't quite place it. "Halloween Dream," He remembered it was called. He couldn't remember from where, though.

"You- you bastard." she said in a strangled voice. "You said- you promised- you said you loved me and you promised me- promised me that you'd-"

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice void of care or compassion, as she stopped speaking, her voice choked with tears. "I still love you,"

He put both his arms around her waist in mock affection. She tried, though unsuccessful, to shake him off. "What's wrong?" he asked in a cold voice. "Not used to the new me yet?"

"Get away!"

He started to laugh- until there was an explosion from somewhere else in the dungeon. He quickly apparated away.

He couldn't cry. It was strange- he felt like crying, but his grief was obviously beyond tears. Lucius brought him out of his thoughts abruptly with his mad screaming.

"Draco, damn you! All I wanted was for you to follow the traditions I tried to set- you filthy little bastard…"

Harry couldn't help but laugh madly. Draco had not joined the Death Eaters with his father, but had worked for the Order with his godfather- Severus Snape. Draco had been one of the few spies there were for the Order. He was still a sorry, snobbish git, but he wasn't a Voldemort supporter.

Unlike most would think, Lucius Malfoy did love his son. He disliked him in every way thinkable, but he still thought of him as a son. Draco shared none of the same feelings for his father, however; he wished for nothing less than the man's death.

A sound came to Harry's ears. A new sound. A sound that was wonderful and horrible at the same time, for it meant freedom, but it also meant imprisonment; the Dark Lords voice, commencing attack on Azkaban prison. Harry heard the cell wall on Lucius' left side explode.

"RUN! GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN, OUR MASTER HAS COME FOR US!" Lucius screamed, his raspy voice somehow reaching a high volume.

The effect was immediate. Every wall, every door, every stone block way in Azkaban was destroyed in a fiery explosion.

Prisoners ran madly, looking for a way off the island. Harry immediately ran for the shore, knowing full and well what he was going to do, and he intended to do it before Voldemort found him.

As soon as he reached the shore, he transfigured into a great, golden griffin.

Harry thanked god every day he never told anyone about his transformation ability- not even Voldemort knew. Harry had found a book on Animagus transformations while he stayed at the Dark Lords residence, and had learned very quickly how to change himself.

He flew valiantly into the sky, although this could not be seen from below, as it was complete havoc down there.

Harry flew, and flew and flew even though his body was screaming for rest, he continued, flying as hard as he could. He flew as long as he could bare it, until he was so exhausted he could not think. He landed on a rock for rest.

He didn't believe it. It had happened so fast.

Harry James Potter was now the second person in history to escape from Azkaban.

"Now all I need is my wand…"

A griffin flew throughout the air valiantly, roaring in a victorious way. It seemed to stop, as another figure appeared in front of it.

Black scales, red eyes, and long, dripping fangs. The snake in front of the griffin pulled it's head back, preparing to spring. The gryffin opened its mouth-

WHAM!

Sirius awoke with a start. A book thicker than his torso had been slammed on the table in front of him.

"Sorry," Said a voice from behind the book. "Didn't know you were there." The person sat down across from him and pushed the book to the side. The man had a handsome face, sun-kissed a mild tan color, with short, flaming red hair. Though you couldn't see it through the robes, the man had a very strong build; to be expected if you were a professional Quidditch player.

"Haven't seen you in a while. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Ron." Sirius said. "I just didn't get much sleep last night."

"When was the last time you got enough sleep?" Ron inquired, looking at him, worry in his expression.

"Not in about nine years." Sirius said truthfully.

Ron said nothing more. The thought sent him into silence as he gazed down at the table.

"How did your last game go? I never saw the results, I had to miss it." Sirius asked, trying to change the subject. He didn't like his depression effecting others in such a way.

"We won by seventy points. Cannons are better than ever." He still looked depressed.

"How's Hermione?"

"Fine. I think being head of Gryffindor house keeps her spirits up. She loves to act like McGonagall, but I'm not sure if McGonagall ever gave so much Transfiguration homework…"

They both laughed half-heartedly. "How is McGonagall?" Ron asked.

"She's fine." Sirius said. "She enjoys tutoring your kids as much as I do. Connor and Adam are doing better, she told me the other day."

"What about Sophie?"

"She was already good."

"True!" Ron laughed, finally smiling. Sirius smiled as well, though his heart wasn't in it.

"How's Charlotte?" he inquired.

"Doing great. She's been scaring Callum and Emily out of their wits with stories about the Sorting."

"Fred and George didn't tell their own children about the Sorting!" Sirius asked.

"Fred never told Emily; so, George never told Callum. Angelina and Katie just went along; they've been pretty busy, what with Auror tests coming up soon."

"Are they any good?"

"They have a pretty good chance, but don't have much time left over for their husbands or their children. It's driving Fred nuts, not having Angelina around."

This brought another half-hearted laugh from both men.

"Charlotte… Charlotte's the only one who's been at Hogwarts yet- tell me, how does the school react to her- unusual charm?"

Ron smiled. "Hermione tells me being one-fourth Veela doesn't bother her in the least- infact, she's rather enjoying it…"

Sirius gave a small smile. "Bit young, isn't she?"

"Fleur was probably like that… she inherited her mothers talents, I'll tell you, but her fathers Quidditch talent. 'Best Chaser in the school', Hermione told me. Pity she isn't in Gryffindor, first Weasley who wasn't, I think."

"Ravenclaw isn't too bad. She certainly has the brains."

"She certainly didn't get them from Bill…"

"Bill doing all right? He's what- in charge of all the Gringotts curse-breakers?"

Ron nodded. "Bill's fine- making enough money so Fleur can stay home with her children. That's what she enjoys, he told me. Funny, Angelina and Katie love their children, but said they'd rather be attacked by a Blast-ended Skrewt than stay home with them all day."

They shared another half-hearted laugh. "Has Molly been watching them? Callum and Emily can be a bit of a handful, can't they? What with growing up in the shop and all."

"-And I think their getting worse. In my opinion, they're worse than their fathers ever were… They stay at the shop while Fred and George are working and study everything in the inventory. They'll probably start making their own stuff soon."

"Then they'll put their own fathers out of business when they get older." Sirius said, shaking his head.

"I take it they're looking forward to their first year at Hogwarts then… what about Luke and Benjamin?"

"They're both excited. But, we spotted a problem- they both want to be Prefects, and Head Boy, and I can guess how that'll turn out…" Ron looked horrified at the thought.

"Bit early for them to be thinking about that, isn't it?" Ron laughed.

"They're already thinking about their careers…"

Sirius sighed. "Those two will be just like their father… was Penelope like that when she was at school?"

Ron shrugged. "She married Percy, so I can only guess… I always thought Penelope would be like Percy, completely wrapped up in a career, but she just likes to stay at home with Bart…"

"Bart? Does he appreciate that, or does he insist his son be referred to as 'Bartemius'?" Ron laughed and shrugged.

"He's only a five year old, and it's easier for him to write 'Bart' rather than the full thing… besides, Percy's nowhere near as strict and stiff as he used to be… personally, I think he's whipped."

This brought a whole-hearted laugh from both men. Sirius remembered all the times he and Remus had taunted James about the exact same thing.

"Four kids… first Benjamin and Luke, then Bart and Percival…" Sirius fell into thought.

"Percy's pretty close to achieving his dream." Ron said, sensing Sirius' change in mood. "Being the youngest ever Minister of Magic- right now he's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he's gotten on the good side of nearly everyone above him… but were not sure when Fudge is going to finally leave office." Both made a face. "He's somehow managed to cling onto his position, but if he finally gets booted out, Percy will be at the top of the list. He'll get a lot of support from the Daily Prophet-"

"What with his sister being head reporter. Won't anyone notice?" Ron shook his head.

"Ginny's been unofficially named most honest reporter of all time… I have to admit, I was surprised when she didn't fire old Skeeter…"

"What ever happened to her?" Sirius asked, looking curious. Ron frowned.

"She runs a gossip column for some witches magazine… she hasn't printed anything she knows we wouldn't want, Hermione still has that blackmail. It's beyond me how she managed to figure the whole thing out in the first place."

"Hmm… so, why didn't Ginny fire her?"

"She has too many loyal fans." Ron sighed and shook his head.

They were interrupted when someone else apparated into the room with a CRACK.

"You coming soon, Ron? Everyone's waiting." Came a female voice.

Before them stood a woman, short and slim, with stylishly cut hair that went down just past her collar bone, wearing red robes and holding a brown purse. She wore a pair of rectangular glasses with no frame, and she had a pen tucked behind her ear she had supposedly forgotten about.

"Hey Gin. We were just talking about you."

"Most everyone will be there soon, you should get back and help Hermione with the dinner."

"Of course. Coming Sirius?"

Sirius shook his head. "I've got too much paperwork to do…"

"You can do it later. You've been working almost non-stop for far too long, and I say if you don't come and enjoy yourself I'll hex you!"

Sirius surrendered. He had lied; he had no paperwork to do at all. He just hated whenever his mood rubbed off on others, though his young Godchildren would be at the dinner party. They were one of the few things that still brought a smile to Sirius' face.

"Connor, Adam, Sophie- could you help me set the table?"

A woman stood at the counter of a rather large and expensive looking kitchen. She had bushy brown hair, (pulled back into a ponytail, the only thing that kept it out of her face) and wore a white apron over her expensive black robes. She was pulling wine glasses out of a high cabinet with her wand, while at the same time watching her three children closely to make sure they didn't break anything.

Two young boys, both with bright red hair that grew out, framing their faces handsomely, were running up and down a long table, placing plates as quickly as they could as if it were a race. The third child, a girl with bright blue eyes and flaming red hair, (also pulled back into a ponytail; not bushy, but with large, bouncy curls,) was smiling reluctantly at them while she sat forks and knives beside each plate.

"Connor!" The young girl cried as the first young boy rushed past her, almost knocking her off her feet. "Watch it!" The boy only laughed and doubled back, making sure to elbow the girl in the side.

"Ow! Mum!"

"All of you, stop it! We have work to do!" Hermione yelled, turning around.

"Let Winky do it!" The second boy, Adam, said, frowning.

"Winky is busy! She's washing all our clothes; you know I don't have her fix dinner for us, we always do that!"

"Mum, I don't wanna fix dinner!"

"I don't either!"

"If Connor doesn't have to, I don't want to!"

The sound of apparation cracks was heard in the adjacent room, the living room.

"DAD'S HOME!" All three children screamed at the same time, throwing the remainder of the dishes on the table and rushing to him.

"Auntie! Sirius!" One of them cried. Hermione swiftly sat down the glasses she had been levitating and rushed into the living room.

Sure enough, she saw her children's Godfather, with a rare smile on his face and his strong arms wrapped around all three of his godchildren at once. He rarely left his home, though he was now a free man, and spent most his time working. His career was not the source of his depression, however; for he enjoyed working as an Auror. The source of his depression was something far worse, than ran deep into his heart.

Hermione hurriedly shook the thought, and instead greeted Ginny, who had arrived with them, then greeted her husband with a quick kiss.

"You're having dinner with us?" Hermione asked hopefully. "Or are you just here on business?"

"He's eating. I threatened him if he didn't." Ron said proudly.

"Hm. Dinners almost ready- where is-"

There was a sound; much like the sound of a fire roaring, just for a moment.

Sirius apparated into the Weasley's living room at the same time as Ginny and Ron.

A loud cry of, "DAD'S HOME!" was heard from the kitchen, followed by a clashing of dishes and three children rushing in, Connor, Adam, and Sophie.

A well- welcomed feeling of happiness and love came into Sirius' heart; now an uncommon feeling for him. His three Godchildren, (of the Weasley clan, at least.) were one of the few things that brought him unconditional happiness.

"Auntie!" Adam cried, seeing Ginny, then, spotting Sirius, cried his name out as well.

He smiled as they rushed toward him and embraced them all; savoring the feeling.

Hermione came rushing in, smiling at the sight and greeting Ginny and her husband.

"You're having dinner with us?" Hermione asked hopefully. "Or are you just here on business?"

"He's eating. I threatened him if he didn't." Ron said proudly.

"Hm. Dinners almost ready- where is-"

There was a flaring sound and a green light from the study, where someone had apparently just flooed in.

They walked to the study, Sophie grabbing hold of Sirius' hand as she began relating how she had been for the last twenty-four hours, (That's how most nine year olds are.) while Connor and Adam walked on the other side, relating their day.

"Then I beat Connor at chess-" Sophie stated, before he interrupted her.

"Did not!"

"Uh-huh! I won, you lost!"

"I won!"

"I won!"

"I won- ask Adam!"

"Connor won!"

"You're just siding with him! I can beat you both at anything!"

"CANNOT!" The boys chorused.

"CAN TOO!" she screamed.

"Calm down! Don't you want to greet your cousin Emily?" Hermione said, pointing at Sirius' other Godchild, who was standing at the fireplace.

They all ran quickly to greet the tall, black haired girl with dark skin that was grinning at them. Her father was behind her, looking around for someone.

"Hey Fred. Where's-"

The fireplace in the dark study lit up once again and Sirius' other Godson stepped out, tall as well, with a light complexion and a handsome face, framed by his long red hair.

"Callum!" They chorused, rushing and embracing their other cousin, just as George stepped out, brushing the soot off of his robes.

"Hey George. Where're the wives?" Sirius asked, embracing Emily and Callum, who were just as excited to see him.

"Still working." Fred said in a very annoyed voice. A few present chuckled.

"Percy and Bill are coming by foot." George said, before greeting everyone. No sooner had he spoken than there was a knock at the front of the door.

A house elf appeared, wearing a blue dress that fit with a white apron over it.

"Winky will get it, Miss!" she said in a high voice, rushing off. She returned a few moments later with a brunette holding a very young baby, and her husband Percy, followed by two boys, Luke and Benjamin, both with short red hair and both rather short in height, as well.

"Penelope, Percy!" Someone said happily. As soon as they came through, they were followed by three others, Bill, Fleur, and their daughter, Charlotte.

Charlotte had her mothers' complexion and looks; she was a very attractive girl with pearly white teeth and a graceful stride, but unlike her mothers long, fine blonde hair, she had a long collection of thick red hair, the same red hair that resides as the Weasley trademark.

They greeted each other warmly and happily; before the adults moved into the kitchen, leaving the kids in the living room to talk.

"So, what'd you wanna play?" Sophie asked excitedly.

The sound of silverware clinking against dishes was only drowned out by the laughter and talk of the persons present. At one end sat the adults; with the exception of two. Percy had left a few moments earlier after receiving an 'urgent' owl from his assistant, and Sirius sat with the children, grinning at their useless fight and chatter.

"Did too." Sophie said stubbornly.

"You did not." Adam said, just as stubborn as his sister.

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Liar. Did too." Sophie said, smirking as though this made her victorious.

"Tell her, Sirius! She did not!"

"Well- what are you arguing over?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at them. They both looked dumbfounded.

"I forgot!"

Everyone within earshot laughed. Then there was then a mixture of sounds that rendered them silent; a crack, followed by a angry yet fretful cry, and the sound of breaking china or glass.

Before anyone moved to see the source of the noise, a cry, ("Damn vase!") and a sweaty and panicked figure, Percy, rushed into the room.

"Penelope- I want you to take the boys and go home. Lock the doors, lock the windows. Everyone do the same!"

"What are you on about, man?" Bill asked, eyes going wide.

"No- never mind that, you'll never get there in time… everyone has to stay here! Lock everything! But listen- everyone needs to get to Dark Island! There's a prison riot- some of the Azkaban prisoners have already escaped!"

It took about a minute for this information to sink in. In that time, both Bart and Charlotte started to cry. Charlotte had an absolutely mortified look on her face.

So did Sirius.

Chaos. That was the only word Cho Chang could think of to describe it. Utter Chaos.

After she had managed, along with many other Aurors, to bound and gag all the prisoners they could find, they rounded them up to do a check. After the officer who was doing the check finished, he threw down his clipboard swearing vehemently.

"What's wrong? How many are gone?" Cho asked in a toneless voice. She sounded rather bored; though she was nowhere near boredom.

"Only one!" he roared, his fists shaking.

"Who?" Ginny Weasley cried, stomping her foot. What was she doing here? Cho never saw her outside of her home or the office.

One of the prisoners, Malfoy, began to laugh madly. The officer signaled for Cho to remove his gag.

"Successful!" he cried madly, throwing himself onto the ground. "The Dark Lord wasn't here at all! A trick! It worked! He's free again! Now the Dark Lord can save us for sure!" The other prisoners joined in on his laughing and cackling.

"The entire breakout was meant for one prisoner?" Cho cried in an intimidating voice, stepping forward. "WHO ESCAPED?"

They broke into a chant. It was a creepy, triumphant chant that would forever echo in her ears. They were laughing madly, acting as if they were drunk, chanting and giggling.

They chanted his name. Over and over, again and again. Everyone was panicking.

They searched, sending out Aurors all over the world- people were screaming in panic, rushing home to try and protect themselves or something of the sort. Many, like the Weasley family, were pale with fright or shaking with anger. Cho felt as though someone was repeatedly beating her in the stomach.

"- Potter, Potter, Potter, -"

"Stop!" Cho cried, throwing silencing charms among them. "Stop it now!"

This caused more laughter and an increase in volume. Cho screamed in failure, finally apparating out of there as quick as possible to the first place she could think of… the home of her best friend, Ginny Weasley.

BOOM!

"Callum! Emily! This isn't the time for games!" Mrs. Weasley cried angrily, which was luckily enough to stop the duo from tossing another Dungbomb. They both groaned, annoyed, sitting down on the ground to rest. The room was still filled with noise, however. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley were left to watch the children while everyone else apparated off to help with the Azkaban business.

"We need to calm down! Now, quiet-" Mr. Weasley insisted.

He was unable to finish, because at that moment, two apparation cracks were heard. Sirius and Lupin ran in, Sirius looking like he was about to scream, and Lupin seemed to be keeping him calm, though they both looked very panicky.

They could tell by the look on their faces they had urgent news.

"Molly!" Remus cried upon seeing her. "You've got to get out!"

"What!" she cried. "Whatever in heavens for?"

"Harry!" Sirius snarled, finally gaining his voice.

The color in everyone's faces vanished. "Harry?" Mr. Weasly asked in a small voice. "He hasn't- escaped has he?"

Lupin nodded silently. Sirius finally lost his nerve, sitting down on a couch and putting his head in his hands. He neither said nor did anything.

"But why do we have to leave!" Emily said, standing up. They rest of them did the same.

"Because." Lupin said, looking even more panicked. "Dumbledore put Hermione in charge of keeping Harry's wand hidden. That's the first thing he'll be after, I'm sure of it. That puts you all in danger, if Harry ever knew where his wand was-"

A loud thump from above them caused them all to freeze. Then, footsteps.

Someone was upstairs.

"Shh!" Mr. Weasly said quickly, standing up. "It might be- him." They all stood still, afraid. Even Sirius and Lupin knew that they couldn't take on Harry single-handed. Suddenly, Sophie let out a frightened cry. Adam and Connor quickly covered her mouth, looking up at the ceiling.

The footsteps stopped. There was a silence. It was a moment before they started again.

"We need to get out of here!" Lupin hissed, walking to the fireplace.

"No!" Mrs. Weasley whispered back, still looking up at the ceiling. "We can't allow Harry his wand! You know what'll happen if he gets it!"

Suddenly, Cho Chang apparated into the living room with a loud, echoing, CRACK.

The footsteps stopped, and they heard an angry cry from upstairs.

"RUN!" was the first thing she heard when she arrived. The cry had come from Lupin, who was throwing powder into the fireplace.

"What's wrong? What's going on!" Cho cried, her face tear-stained. Unusual, because truthfully, she never really showed her emotions, and especially not cried. "Why are we running?"

"Go dear, it's Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cried, grabbing Sophie and Adam by their wrists. "He's upstairs-"

"AHA!" Came a triumphant cry. "Found it!"

"FORGET ABOUT THE FIREPLACE!" Sirius roared, pushing the children their way through. "We've got to stop Harry, now!"

They all nodded in agreement, taking off upstairs. They ran to the master bedroom and peered inside.

The place had been ransacked. How he had managed to do it so silently was a mystery to them. The pillows had been ripped open, Hermione's bed had been turned over, and most of her possessions had been destroyed. What was the most surprising was that Harry was gone. They had expected him to stay and try and kill them all. But he had just left. Just like that.

"What is he planning to do?" Cho asked softly.

Dead leaves crackled softly under his footsteps. 'Strange,' he thought. 'How the trees this deep into the forest never grow leaves, yet here they are, same as always…'

He stopped beside a large, thick tree and leaned against it, thinking to himself. He didn't have any time to busy himself with petty emotions… he had done plenty of that already. Much of the time since he had gotten out of that hellhole Azkaban he had been sobbing himself nearly to sleep, thinking of everything that had happened and everything that probably will happen. He had to make a plan. Now. There wasn't much time left… surely someone would think that he could be hiding in the dark forest. None of them were that thick.

Then again, it was really physically impossible for him to be anywhere to them. How had he gotten off the island? Dumbledore had made sure it was now impossible to swim off, apparate, use a Portkey, or anything of the sort. Of course, no one knew about his Animagus form. Strange. To them, it must seem too cliché to be possible. "Sirius' Animagus form? Maybe Harry did the same thing!" No, they would think that the Dark mastermind would come up with something more creative than that. And surely something more creative than hiding in the Forbidden Forest.

They were obviously very into finding him. He knew for a fact they had Aurors in every country in the world, some of the remaining Dementors patrolling Hogsmeade and searching London. Harry also had to avoid some of the remaining Death Eaters; they were working just as hard to find him.

He had to think of something. And he had to move. If he stayed in one place for too long, something would find him, a werewolf or something of the sort.

Just as he was about to move, he heard two pairs of approaching footsteps. Human footsteps.

Fifth Year, St. Mungo's

"Course he's worried," growled Moody. "The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake… Obviously, Potter doesn't realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him-"

Harry pulled the Extendable Ear out of his own, his heart hammering very fast and heat rushing up to his face. He looked around at the others. They were all staring at him, the strings still trailing around from their ears, suddenly looking fearful.

"-You didn't leave your bed, mate!" said Ron insistently. "You were thrashing around in your sleep about a minute before we could wake you up…"

Harry started pacing up and down the room again, thinking… what they were saying made sense, but something tugged at his mind, something told him they were wrong… what if he was the weapon? Voldemort wouldn't stop after one failed attempt.

What did they know? Just because Ginny was so naïve as to have her mind taken over by Tom Riddle didn't mean she knew what it felt like to be possessed by Voldemort. Just because Hermione read her stupid, "Hogwarts; A history," didn't mean she knew everything about Hogwarts. Voldemort was the worlds most powerful Dark Wizard, surely he could find a way into Hogwarts. He had once before, with Tom Riddle.

Harry dreaded the eve after he finally returned to Hogwarts; He felt extremely troubled and infected; as though he could, at any moment, attack anyone that got to close. Besides that, everyone was constantly approaching him between classes, asking hopefully if there would be a meeting that night for the D.A.

"I'll let you know when the next one is," Harry said over and over again, "But I can't do it tonight, I've got- er- things to do,"

He continued a bit down the hall with Ron and Hermione, until he heard a voice; "Hi Harry,"

He turned and found Cho standing there. "Oh," he said as his stomach leapt uncomfortably. "Hi,"

"We'll be in the library, Harry," said Hermione firmly, and she seized Ron above the elbow and dragged him off toward the marble staircase.

"Had a good Christmas?" asked Cho.

"Yeah, not bad." Harry lied. "Yours?"

"Mine was pretty quiet." she said. She suddenly looked rather embarrassed. "Erm… there's another Hogsmeade trip next month, did you see the notice?"

"Oh no, I haven't checked the notice board since I got back…"

"Yes, it's on Valentine's Day…" Her blush intensified.

"Right," Harry said, a bit confused. "I suppose you want to-?"

"Only if you do," she said eagerly.

He had been about to say, "I suppose you want to know when the next D.A. meeting is?" but her response did not seem to fit. He immediately felt very awkward.

"I- Er-"

"Oh," she said, looking mortified and embarrassed. "It's okay if you don't. Don't worry. I-I'll see you around."

She turned and walked away, hunching her shoulders slightly so he couldn't see her face.

Harry, as soon as he realized what had just happened, felt very stupid.

"Cho! Cho, wait!"

He ran after her, catching her halfway up the marble staircase.

"Er- d'you want to come into Hogsmeade with me on Valentine's Day?"

"Oooh, yes!" she said, turning quickly and beaming at him.

"Right… well, that's settled then," he said, giving her a small grin. His heart lifted considerably. "Erm- when- when should we meet?"

She thought for a moment before someone down the hall called out to her. She bit her lip.

"Look- I can't talk now, but… we can meet later today, how about in a few hours? By the portrait of the crazy knight?"

"Sure." he said with a smile. "I've- I've got to go. See you."


	2. Punishment

Just as he heard the footsteps, he quickly hid himself by swiftly climbing the closest tree- he would never figure out how he climbed so quickly and silently, but he did it just in time. The two figures- which he saw were Dumbledore and Hagrid- both emerged at the same time. Dumbledore was dressed in a tattered green cloak, while Hagrid was still in his usual attire. Both had a saddened look upon their face.

"-Jus' sayin', Professor Dumbledore, that he wouldn't be hidin' in the forest. He'd be smarter 'n that! He's probly' hidin' in Bulgaria or summat foreign…" Hagrid had his crossbow at the ready.

"We can't take chances, Rubeus." Dumbledore said. "What if he was hiding in the forest, and just waiting to spring on the students?"

"Why would 'ee do summat like that?" Hagrid said. "It's not the students 'ee's after, its us!"

"And he will implore any force necessary to get to us." Dumbledore added. "I do not want the students in danger, Hagrid. I don't want them to have to worry."

They were silent for just a few seconds, before; "Professor Dumbledore, what- what happened?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"What do you mean, Hagrid?"

"What happen'd to him? I never understood! Everythin' was fine, more'n fine, he was so happy, he had 'is friends, he was even in love- why, why did he jus' go over t' the dark side an' give it all up?"

It seemed as though he had been wanting to say that for some time. His eyes were almost brimming with tears. Dumbledore's, too, were rather bright.

"I don't know." he said softly. "I don't know. I'll never know, I don't think anyone will."

"He knew better'n anyone that the dark is nuthin' good, but…" Hagrid stopped and pulled out his handkerchief. After blowing his nose and a short silence, he sniffed again and looked to his left, right underneath were Harry was hiding.

"I still think he's hidin' somewhere more creative then the Dark Forest… though, Fudge keeps insistin' we search everywhere, thinks he's after him…" Hagrid gave a snort. "Thinks a lot of himself, that one- like any Dark Wizard valuable to You-Know-Who's going to be goin' after that stooge."

"We don't have time to search every inch of Hogwarts, he couldn't get here if he tried, the barriers are too strong… we need to focus on getting a new teacher that can defend Hogwarts in case something goes wrong… it's harder than ever…" Dumbledore looked the same direction as Hagrid; Harry kept as still as possible and breathed slowly and silently.

"What if we don't find anybody?"

"Then the Ministry will appoint someone- we can't let that happen. It's getting late, let's head back and have lunch before we return." He started off in the direction they had been looking, Hagrid following. Harry's stomach swirled strangely at the thought of food. He hadn't eaten a good meal in… so long.

After Harry counted to two hundred and slid himself out of the tree, he was numbly surprised at how much self-control he was having over his emotions. He was able to subdue them until they were almost… nonexistent.

'Is that a good thing or…' he shook his head at the thought. Such things would lead to him being emotional again… directing his thoughts to something else, he realized what Dumbledore had said- that Hogwarts needed a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… well, a new teacher, but Harry had a strong feeling it was Defense Against the Dark Arts, even though he had heard no news of the school in forever, they had never found anybody to keep that job.

"That's it." he breathed to himself, looking high into the canopy of the trees in thought.

"You know what this means?" Sirius said to him abruptly. "Turning Pettigrew in?"

"You're free," he said.

"Yes…" he said. "But I'm also- I don't know if anyone ever told you- I'm your godfather."

"Yeah, I knew that." Harry said.

"Well… your parents appointed me your gaurdian," His voice was rather stiff. "If anything ever happened to them…"

He was silent for a moment.

Thoughts ran through Sirius' head. He had been raised by his aunt and uncle; they must love him and think of him as theirs…

"I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle, But… well… think about it. Once my name's cleared… if you wanted a… a different home…"

Bang- Harry's head hit against a stone hanging from the ceiling. "What- live with you?" He said. "Leave the Dursleys?"

He should have known. Disappointment filled him, though he tried to hide it. "Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," he said. "I understand, I just thought I'd-"

"Are you insane?" he said, his voice cracking. "Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?"

Sirius turned around to look at him- and started. His Godson stood, glaring at him with bright, red eyes and bared teeth, like a snake-

He shot up in bed, gasping for air. Cold sweat covered him and his temperature had risen; he thrust the bed sheets off of himself and laid back down, calming his breathing. He brought his hand to his cheek and felt moisture; he was crying again. Nothing new to him.

Only a few days before, when his godson somehow escaped Azkaban, was when it had started. Sirius had never been able to get a good nights sleep, but now he got none at all. Anytime he dozed off, he would awaken shaking after a nightmare or a dream of something from the past. He had always tried to push the memories- the thoughts- behind him, but now it was as if the wounds, which had never fully healed, had been ripped open, and were just as painful as when they were fresh.

He closed his eyes again. 'Sleep,' he silently begged, 'Sleep…' He wished for the oblivion to take him, take away his worries if only for eight or so hours while he slept, but it never came… even if it were to be haunted with nightmares… he had to sleep…

Sunlight shone through his eyelids… where was he, what had happened?… He opened his eyes to see that it was morning… finally, he had slept! If only for a few hours, it was undisturbed… even that, even finally resting his tired and aching body couldn't distract him from the terrible feeling of sadness that clung to him. Not only did it stress him emotionally, it really, physically felt as though there was a led weight on his heart.

There was a knock at his door; without wait, it was opened and Lupin stepped through with a plate of food.

"Did you get any sleep?" he inquired, handing him the food.

"Wh- what are you doing here?" he yawned. His home was password protected- only the order members and a few others knew the password, including Lupin, but usually people were careful not to surprise him.

"Dumbledore wanted me to check up on you. We could use your help, but you don't have to if you don't want to. He'll understand." He handed him the plate of sausage and eggs and watched him curiously. He had never looked worse, excluding the time he had just escaped from the prison.

"Well, did you get any sleep?" he repeated. Sirius nodded.

"I'm still tired, but… I just don't think…" Lupin interrupted him.

"You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, but- well, a few of us had to stop our regular shifts to keep reporters from breaking in here. Ginny isn't able to contain them anymore, and it would look suspicious if she ordered them to let it be. It is a rather big deal, you know."

"I know. I read her article just yesterday. Still got it." Sirius sighed. "Well, she's no Rita Skeeter, thankfully, but I still wish she had chosen a better profession. An Auror or maybe just a Ministry worker! Anything's better than a reporter."

There was a thoughtful and awkward silence. Lupin studied Sirius' face, until Sirius got out of bed abruptly and reached for his uniform he kept under the bed.

"You can't work right now." Lupin said, shaking his head. "You've just been under enough lately."

"No," he said stubbornly. "I don't want them to take me for weak. A few of them must be having a field day, knowing I'm stuck here."

"But-"

"I'm going." He walked across his bedroom to his bathroom, (His house was relatively small; a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and a study.) and closed the door to change.

"You really shouldn't!" Lupin called through the door.

"I know that, Moony. I'm still going to." He quickly pulled off the pajamas and rushed into his Auror uniform.

"You know, I won't even try. Your just as stubborn as back at Hogwarts." He could almost sense the smile on his face.

Sirius sighed. He was the only one who couldn't smile, it seemed.

"Robertson, you take team A, Weasley- Katie- take team B, and Weasley,- Angelina- take team C. I want every inch of Europe searched!" Sirius shouted orders to the teams. Even those who hadn't taken their tests yet were helping; quite a bit had been put on hold for the search. Search and Destroy, they had dubbed the mission. Sirius drove himself to his work to keep from thinking about it. He acted as though they were searching for an average criminal, a very well hidden one. At least this was Hermione's view on how he was taking it.

She sighed and shook her head. She apparated off with team A into an alleyway in muggle London.

"Disguise yourselves." Robertson, a gangly young man who still had traces of acne scars from his teen years, whispered. He transfigured his clothes into blue jeans and a white T-shirt; a better disguise than usual for a pure-blood wizard. Hermione herself transfigured into a similar outfit.

She waited as he assisted the rest. Her thoughts drifted; something she was used to. Anytime, almost anywhere, her thoughts drifted when she had the time. The drifted, unsurprisingly, to Harry. How could they not? She sighed…

He had changed; even Ron could see that back when they were still in school. He worked harder, he fell into thought often, sometimes he was extremely moody and said things to teachers most students had only dreamed of. He wasn't unhappy, however, he still laughed at stupid jokes just like all the other boys in the common room and he was always smiling when Cho came around. Hermione had held a bit of hostility toward Cho throughout most of their years together; she, Hermione had thought, was the cause of Harry's behavior. She knew how wrong she was now.

"Weasley? Weasley!" Robertson's commanding voice cracked into her skull. She lightly shook herself and looked at his face.

"Come on, are you with us? We need to head out."

"I'm not an Auror." She said waspishly. "I don't necessarily have to do what you say. I'm a volunteer, remember?" He blushed and muttered an apology before signaling everyone out onto the street. Hermione followed him through the busy, bustling street, her eyes sharp for anything suspicious.

She sighed to herself a few hours later. Nothing. They stopped by a fountain in the center of the sidewalk for a moments rest. She stared up into he sky and imagined Harry's face.

"Damn you." she whispered to herself. "Where are you hiding?"

"Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes, pancakes, paaaancakes and butter…" Adam and Connor both sang joyously.

"If you don't stop singing zat annoying song, you won't get anymore." Fleur said, her accent faintly present as she waved her wand to start the dishes cleaning themselves. They ceased. They knew when her accent returned that she meant business. "I hate zoes stupid jingles…"

Sophie gave a small laugh and stuck her tongue out at them. They stuck theirs out at her. Luke and Benjamin rolled their eyes, and in an imitation of their father, sighed, "Such childish behavior…"

Bart, grinning his five-year old grin, picked up a handful of butter and raised his hand to throw it; his mother Penelope grabbed his wrist. "Drop it." She ordered. So he did. On the floor.

She sighed and grabbed a washcloth and started cleaning it. "At least your eating something, you were awfully sick a few days ago. We had to leave you with the sitter while we went to the dinner party!"

He ignored every word and picked up a syrup-soaked pancake and stuffed as much of it in his mouth as possible, most of it dripping down his chin and onto his shirt. "Rmrrm!" He said.

Everyone laughed. Fleur turned to clean him up and spoke to Penelope while doing so. "Where are Emily and Callum, and Charlotte for that matter?"

"They're all in the study with the baby." she said, standing after scrubbing the floor.

"Percival won't be like Bart when he's older, will he?" Sophie asked curiously. Penelope laughed.

"I don't see why he wouldn't…"

"When is mommy and daddy getting home?" Connor asked, looking at them.

"When are mommy and daddy getting home, Connor, not 'is'." Penelope said automatically.

"When ARE mommy and daddy getting home?" He said irritably, scowling.

"Your mother will be home soon, but your father's going to be gone for a while."

"Where?" he asked automatically.

"Searching." She finished cleaning Bart up, and took his half-eaten plate while she stood and walked back to the sink. He screamed in protest.

"For what?" Connor persisted. Bart screamed again.

"Mommy! Food!" he demanded. Penelope shook her head at him.

"For what?" Connor repeated, annoyed. He hated being ignored. "FOR WHAT?"

Bart screamed again, this time joined by Sophie. "Adam hit me with his fork!" She said accusingly.

"DID NOT!" Adam yelled.

"MOMMY! FOOD!" Bart screamed again. He began to wail. "I'M HUNGRY!"

The kitchen chaos increased as Sophie thrust her pancakes at Adam.

"SHE GOT ME ALL STICKY!" he screamed. He wrapped his hand around the butter on the table and threw it at her.

"HE GOT ME STICKY!"

"FOR WHAT? WHAT, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT!" Connor screamed as loud as he could.

"Quiet! Quiet, stop!" Penelope yelled. Her kitchen was now covered in syrup and butter, and Bart was now sobbing. To add, her sons started arguing, again, about fifth year Prefects.

"Stop!" she screamed. No one could hear her. Their was a shattering of china as Bart threw Luke's plate onto the floor in a fit.

"Stop!"

"FOR WHAT!"

"QUIET!" Came a scream louder than any other. Fleur grabbed both Sophie and Adam's wrists in a vice grip, and the others ceased, just by seeing the look on her face.

"Leggo!" Sophie said tearfully. "It hurts!"

"You will be quiet." she said in a deathly whisper. "Unless you want to spend the rest of the day with a sore backside, sulking while everyone else- who's quiet- gets to go outside and play."

They froze. No one said a word. She let go of Adam and Sophie's wrists. Both looked down at the floor and said nothing.

"Clean this mess up," she ordered. "And then you can go outside."

They obeyed, working in complete silence. After a few minutes, Penelope threw the washcloth to Adam and stretched. "You mind if I have a nap? I've been working like this all morning…"

"No problem." Fleur said dismissively. "Everything's about done…"

"Can…" Came the small voice of Adam. "Can we go outside now?"

"Of course."

They all rushed out so quickly Penelope swore she felt a gust.

"I hate aunt Fleur!" Sophie said harshly as they walked to the broom shed. "She's so mean!"

"She's not mean!" Came Charlotte's voice. They had been walking through the study. "I'm telling her you said that!"

"Go ahead!" Sophie snapped. "See if I care!"

She carefully handed Percival to Emily, stood and walked briskly out.

"Your going to get it! Aunt Fleur's going to whip you!" Connor hissed. She looked fearful.

"L- let's go play." she said shakily. She ran to the broom shed and rushed just as quickly out, with all their brooms. "Hurry up!" she said. They followed and ran to catch up with her.

"Okay, each team has two Chasers and a Keeper… we'll just play to a hundred points, no Bludgers, no Snitch. I'm team captain for team one." Sophie acted as though nothing was wrong as she said this, in her bossy tone.

"I'm team captain for team two!" Adam said.

"What about me?" Connor asked in mock hurt.

"Your co-captain!"

"Okay!" he said cheerfully.

"On my team," Sophie continued. "I want Luke and me as Chasers and…"

"Me and Connor are Chasers for our team." Adam interrupted. "And we get Benjamin as Keeper."

"Not fair!" she said immediately. "Then we don't get a Keeper!"

"Tough luck! Bart can be your Keeper!"

"No he can't! He's not allowed."

"I wanna play!" Bart demanded.

"Well we don't always get what we want!" Sophie yelled angrily. She threw her hands up in frustration. "Why don't we just forget it and go back inside…" she trailed off and her eyes grew big. They turned to see their aunt Fleur marching toward them, with Charlotte right behind her, smirking at Sophie. They always hated each other.

Fleur yelled something angrily in French and once again grabbed hold of Sophie's wrist.

"No!" she screamed angrily, digging her heels into the ground. "No!"

Fleur tugged hard on her wrist and almost literally dragged her, kicking, screaming and sobbing the whole way. No one said anything, but pretended to look the other way.

Her cries finally cut off when they entered the house. An awkward silence was left in the wake.

"Um.. So, yeah… How about a two Chasers on a team and no Keeper? Play to two hundred?"

Everyone murmured in agreement and mounted their brooms.

Cho Chang was completely and totally silent as she scribbled away at the parchment on her desk. The gigantic window behind her made her literally shine as the sun rose.

She tossed her long black hair behind her and out of the way as she finished and placed the golden quill carefully back into the ink jar. She rolled up the parchment and sealed it, and opened a drawer in her desk and placed it in. She stood finally and stretched, straightening out her blue, purple, and gold robes. To most muggles this would seem a comical outfit for a witch to wear, similar to something they had seen in a storybook. Quite suited for a Charms professor.

She turned and looked out the window; she could see a great amount. The entire wall had been made into a window; while she was at Hogwarts the wall had been blown out and Dumbledore had found it easier to turn it into a window. She had a perfect view of the Quidditch pitch, and she would stay in her office and watch the games from inside if she felt it, which as rarely.

Cho was not exactly one of the most favored professors. The most hated was definitely Professor Malfoy of Potions, mostly because he was Head of Slytherin house and a insufferable git, but some days Cho was right behind. Head of Ravenclaw house, her house students definitely respected her because of her extensive knowledge and power in not only the Charms field, but every other field as well, and though it didn't always show, they appreciated the fact that she was the most challenging teacher at Hogwarts. No students was ever left behind; Cho made sure everyone could work the charm and everyone knew it before they moved on.

That did not always allow her good points with Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, or Gryffindors. Hufflepuffs, hardworking as they are, even they thought sometimes the workload was a little heavy. Slytherins were never really on her good side, never really on her bad side. They despised her not, most likely because their Head of House got along with her rather well, and the way she acted towards Gryffindors. She never favored a certain house, but sometimes, for reasons they could not tell, she would just despise a certain student. She wouldn't show it, but it was never hidden.

She captured a classes attention and kept it from the moment she entered the room to the second she dismissed them. Everyone paid very close attention, and from only a year or so of experience they could read her body language most of the time. The way she squared her eyes if she was angry at you, or the tone of voice she used when she was pleased with you. Sometimes, when they couldn't tell how she felt, it scared them quite a bit.

Cho was very rarely surprised by anything nor did she predict most everything that happened to her. In complete truth, she just didn't care. Not about much anything anymore.

Smoke was billowing from the chimney of the small cottage, which itself was made of red and gray stones. The front and back yard area had luscious green grass, a small garden with many flowers at both, and a pathway leading to the oak door, made of simple round gray stones.

He crept silently toward the cottage. The early morning light would soon be upon him, and then he could be easily sighted, but he wasn't about to let that happen. He reached one of the small windows and peered in. He hoped it wasn't bad timing.

Bad timing, indeed. Not for him, for him it was excellent, but if he got through it all, it would indeed go down as one of the most embarrassing situations in history. At least for Charlie.

He didn't know who the blonde-haired girl was with him beside the fireplace, but Harry paid her no mind. He could easily creep in, as both persons were lip-locked, eyes closed, on the floor, arms around each other; they were obviously paying no notice to their surroundings. How to get in?

The windows at the front of the house were too small to crawl through. He moved to the back windows. Perfect fit.

He tried to ease the window open with his wand, silently, as he sat below. It made a small sound.

The sounds from inside paused. "What was that?" Came the female's voice.

"Who cares?…" Charlie said, his voice unusually low and husky.

He heard the girl squeal, then giggle. He must've blown it off as a bug or stray animal. He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

He couldn't get in through the windows. The sun was starting to rise. He must get in fast, or risk someone seeing him.

Harry sat thinking for a bit. He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to come up with a way in. He must have sat for an hour at least, before he finally decided to just force his way in. If he couldn't get in, he would have to use force, no other way.

No other way. Gods, Charlie's going to hate him for this.

'Well,' he thought as he pointed his wand at the door. 'He already does.'

"Faresaltare!" he cried. He must've put a bit too much power into that Blasting curse; the door was not just blown open, but off it's thick hinges.

There was a very loud, terrified scream as smaller things on that wall went flying, followed by the surprised sound of Charlie, who was unaware of what was going on.

Harry stepped into the room, the dust quickly settling. Things had obviously progressed between the couple whilst he was outside; both their clothes were laying on the floor, and both figures were covered by a thick blanket made of some sort of animal skin.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" he cried, pointing his wand at them both. Both went rigid as a board immediately.

Harry was far from thinking he was safe. He repaired and closed the door behind him and locked it with his wand, as well as all the windows and the other door. He cast a Blackening charm on them as well. He rushed to the fireplace and checked it to see if it was part of the Floo network- it wasn't.

Harry pointed his wand at the floor and cast a anti-apparation charm. It would keep them out, but it might clue them off to his location. Well, he had to take that chance.

For the first time in a long time, Harry felt relatively secure. A bit overwhelmed, he fell into the red leather armchair beside him and heaved a sigh. He rather liked the feeling of being secure, but at the same time, it kind of scared him.

He tried not to think. He didn't want to think, to remember. But it was pretty unavoidable, because when he looked up, he saw a table of photographs featuring everyone in the Weasley family.

He felt his hand tighten around the arm of the chair. His throat made a funny noise, somewhere between vomiting and swallowing, and his chest literally stung. He gripped it with his other hand, trembling, and tried to hold back tears. He wasn't sure why he held them back, but he did. He didn't feel as though he could completely come to terms with what he had done to him, what effect his reckless decisions had on the man.

He picked up a picture that caught his eye, that held his best friends' wedding day. He always knew those two would end up together.

He closed his eyes and returned to simply not thinking, breathing deeply. Meditating, he could call it.

He opened his eyes again, finally catching hold of himself. No time for emotions, he though, repeating his words from the Forbidden Forest. Get down to business.

Fifth Year, by the Portrait of the Crazy Knight

Harry shifted uncomfortably and looked around the halls. Thinking he looked stupid simply standing there, he leaned casually against the wall as he waited. One minute passed. Then two. Was she coming?

Sir Cadogan distracted him by once again swinging his sword. "A duel!" he cried. Harry ignored him.

Three minutes…

"A duel! A duel I say!" he cried insistently. "Fight me!"

Four…

He finally saw her, just coming down the hall. She smiled at him nervously, and didn't say anything as she stopped in front of him. It was rather awkward.

"So, um, you wanna go outside for a walk before it gets dark?" she said.

"Sure," he said nervously. "Alright."

Classes had ended a while ago and the sun was only starting to set, giving the sky a funny hazy color. Cho and Harry stepped out and walked silently along the gravel path. Immediately, the students that were outside talking and laughing eyed them out and seemed to watch them out of the corners of their eyes. They tried to ignore it.

"So, we wanted to set up when to meet?"

"Yeah, and where." Harry said. He looked down at the sidewalk. A funny feeling of guilt crept into his stomach. She had been Cedric's girlfriend. No, he pleaded with himself, no, stop thinking about that.

"Er-" Cho was getting nervous at the surrounding stares. "Meet in the Great Hall?"

"Yeah, that would work." He avoided the looks. "What time, though? In the morning, or.."

"Morning, about, say…nine o' clock?" She looked up at him. Was it early? He didn't know, he had never been on a date before.

"Sure," he said. "Er-"

"Harry!"

He turned to see Hermione running towards him, a strange grin on her face. She caught up to them and coughed a few times. Her face was flushed, and she looked like she had been running quite a distance. Was it Harry's imagination, or was Cho suddenly still and cold?

"Harry- I've been looking for you. Something horrible has happened. Come with me." She grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him away. Harry turned and threw Cho a truly apologetic look; she pressed her lips firmly together as well as her brows, crossed her arms over her chest and turned and walked stiffly away.

Harry, angry with Hermione, whipped around and released his grip from hers. "What do you think your doing?" he demanded.

"Harry, we've got to get down to Professor Dumbledore's office. Ron's in horrible trouble, the stupid git…"

Harry, worried for his friends well being, followed in silence, until they reached his office, when Hermione said the password, and the entered to see a very angry, (and bloody) Ron sitting in an armchair, and a very angry Professors Snape and McGonagall.

"THIS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!" Snape roared at McGonagall.

She puffed out her chest, stuck her face very close to him and yelled just as loudly, "NEITHER WILL YOUR STUDENTS GO UNPUNISHED! IT IS THEIR FAULT WE ARE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"HE SHALL BE EXPELLED!"

"HE SHALL NOT! IF I CAN MAKE IT, YOUR STUDENTS WILL BE EXPELLED!"

"Professors!" Dumbledore said loudly. Sparks shot from his wand. They both seemed to compose themselves and each settled in a chair. Finally seeing Harry, Ron smiled at him weakly. He looked severely beaten; traces of what would soon be a black eye were around both, his lip was bloody, and he held tissue's to keep blood from flowing freely from his nose. He looked somewhat satisfied, though.

"Please, take a seat, Miss Granger, Mister Potter." They followed suit and sat on either side of Ron. "I do not think anyone will be expelled if we simply handle the situation carefully. However, Mister Weasley and your students, Professor Snape, cannot go unpunished."

At this point, he looked at Ron, a severity in his gaze. "I am not sure you are fully aware of the seriousness of what you have done, Mister Weasley. You are lucky, as normally I would seriously consider expelling you, but, due to circumstances-"

There was a sudden knock at the door. Was it his imagination, or had everyone gone still?

"Let me in! I'm not a fool, I know your in there!" Came the extremely unpleasant voice of Umbridge. The three students turned and looked at Professor Dumbledore.

He gave a small sigh. "Let her in, Miss Granger."

Hermione grudgingly got up and walked to the door, barely having time to jump out of the way as Umbridge charged the door and rushed to the desk of Professor Dumbledore.

"Aha!" she yelled, grinning widely, only complementing her toad-like appearance. "It seems Mister Weasley is facing expulsion, Headmaster, and their's nothing you can do. Mrs. Malfoy would even like to press charges, I contacted her a few moments ago."

Ron's face, as well as Harry and Hermione's, paled at this. Dumbledore only looked at her.

"Sorry to say, Professor, but Mister Weasley is not facing expulsion." he said very calmly. "He will be punished in another manner."

Umbridge immediately swelled at this. Accepting defeat early, she stated, "Well, you may not see things as I do, Dumbledore, but there is nothing you can do about the charge."

He looked at her through his half-moon spectacles. "True, I cannot. I am not paid to handle such matters… however, you Professor, are, so I suggest you head back to Mrs. Malfoy and sort out the details." he spoke in a rather saddened manner.

She was utterly delighted and left, throwing Ron a smirk. It must've taken all his self control not to lunge at her, but his right hand, (the only free one, the other was holding the tissue to his nose) tightened around the arm of the chair until the knuckles were white.

"As I was saying," Professor Dumbledore said as soon as she'd left. "Due to circumstances, your sentence will be reduced to a month's detentions, and fifty points will be deducted from Gryffindors house points."

No one protested this, obviously knowing it was far better than being expelled.

"You may all return to your common rooms, it is getting late."

"Ron mate, what the bloody hell happened?" Harry asked as they left. Ron grinned.

"I beat the pulp out of Malfoy, that's what." he said proudly. Hermione gave him a look.

"Yes, and then you got the pulp beaten out of you by Crabbe and Goyle." she said pointedly. He blushed.

"What was I supposed to do? They're twice my size and they had me cornered! Not that you did anything to help, mind you, except run for the teachers."

"What did you want me to do? I can't fight!"

"Well then, you should learn."

"Ron," Harry said, interrupting their fight. "why did you have to attack Malfoy in the first place."


	3. New Meetings

Harry waved his wand and conjured two sets of clothing, then cast a spell that allowed the clothing to dress the two unconscious figures on the floor, quickly. He then dragged them both to the small table on the other side of the small cottage, (It had only two rooms, a small bathroom and everything else fit into the other.) and sat them into the chairs. With a wave of his wand, two long, thick chains appeared and wrapped themselves around Charlie and the girl.

"Enervate." he said, pointing his wand at Charlie.

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, before widening them and looking up. His eyes quickly fell on Harry, and he started, his look fearful and surprised, then, quick as a flash, angered.

"What did you do?" he demanded, settling his eyes upon Harry's worn face.

"Blew the door down." he said simply. "Then stunned you."

"That's not what I mean! What did you do with her?"

Harry, catching his meaning, stepped forward and pulled the chair she was in into Charlie's view. He showed no signs of relief. He glared up at Harry.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded in a deadly whisper. Harry raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"What do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean! I swear, if you've touched her-"

"Shut it!" Harry ordered. Suspiciousness, he thought, I should've expected it. Anger flared inside of him. "You think I'd waste my time on the likes of her? I've got better things to do."

His eyes narrowed. "So you haven't touched her?"

"What the bloody hell did I just say?" he snapped. "I didn't wake you up so that I could stand here and be falsely accused of such petty crimes."

"Then why did you wake me up?"

"I'm curious," he said. "Where do you keep your food?"

He gave him a look that clearly showed mistrust and resentment. However, his eyes must've flashed toward the wand in Harry's hand, and he said nothing he thought may provoke him.

"Over there, in that cabinet." He nodded in front of him, behind Harry. He turned and rushed to it, throwing it open and hurriedly searching through the contents.

Half an hour later, a small, but hot and fresh meal sat in front of Harry. Without even pausing to look at it, he grabbed hold of the first few eating utensils he could find and starting nearly gorging himself, hardly stopping to breath.

He actually choked a few times, and by the time he was done eating he had gone through about four glasses of Pumpkin juice. Finally content with his small meal, he stood and brushed the crumbs of the front of his shirt. He looked at Charlie.

"Hungry?" he said in a toneless voice.

"Why would you care?" he said, looking at the floor, his expression determined.

"I don't want you starving."

"Why not?"

"I don't want you dead."

"Why would it even matter to you?" he said nastily.

Moving quickly, he latched hold of the front collar of the black flannel shirt he had clothed him in.

"Why should I have to tell you everything I do and why?" he hissed softly, putting his face close to his.

He swallowed, a look of fear in his eyes he tried to hide. He said nothing more, and refused to make eye contact.

"So, are you hungry?" he said again after a few seconds, letting go and stepping back. He shook his head.

"I, I ate a few hours ago."

"Hmm." Harry said. "What about… about," He motioned to the girl.

"Her name's Cassandra."

"What about Cassandra? Did you feed her anything?"

He nodded. "Good," Harry said. "That's taken care of, I need to finish getting ready."

Charlie's attention was caught, and his head snapped up. "Ready for what?" he asked fearfully. He was ignored, as Harry simply walked into the bathroom without a word.

"Ready for what?" he demanded again. The door was shut. An echoing silence hung in the air.

Sirius led the Aurors farther into the forest, completely silent against the leaves thanks to the charm he had placed on their shoes. The early morning sun was barely shining through the tree tops.

"He's not here." he said a few moments later. "We've been all over this forest. He's not in this part of Africa. Let's get back to Headquarters."

They agreed, frustrated at their lack of success.

They entered the familiar large cubicle where all of their desks were, lining the walls, facing inward, in a very annoyed manner.

"So, Black." Stephen said, smirking at him from behind his desk. "Find anything? Guess not, I'll have to record your failure-" He sighed. "again."

He ignored him as he entered and said nothing. Stephen Moon, the stupid git, wasn't worth it. He saw the satisfied look in his eyes behind his rectangular-framed glasses.

"I didn't see you out there looking, Moon!" Gage Ryan said, face contorted in anger. "I thought it'd be a bit more exciting than this. I haven't seen any action in at least a week!"

"Fight, fight, fight, is that all you love, Gage?" Lacy said, her apple-shaped face set in a skeptic look. He grinned and nodded.

"Action, fighting, that's what I do, that's what I love!" he said as he seated himself behind his desk, which was littered with empty food containers and soda cans. He reached down and pulled out another one from the stash he kept in his bottom drawer.

"And explosions, don't you love those too?" Chrissy Short said, looking at him. He put on a comically insane face and nodded. She suppressed her laughter.

"Grow up." Lonnie Short, Chrissy's older brother, snickered as he seated himself at his desk, which was opposite Stephen's. Stephen gave him a look.

"Your telling her to grow up? You're the only one here having all these ridiculous girl problems, you shouldn't talk!"

Chrissy gave a sudden laugh, before covering her mouth and suppressing it. Lonnie's face was immediately set.

"I'm not having any girl troubles, Stephen, my dating life is just fine, thank you. And don't you preach about growing up, look at your desk, it hasn't been clean in the last year or so. Didn't they teach you to pick up after yourself in America before they transferred you here?" He gave him a victorious smirk.

Stephen looked down at his desk, which was unorganized, with papers scattered here and there, an empty coffee cup to his left, and various other things. He gave him an uncaring look, reached into his drawer and pulled out a muggle device, small and round, silver, a Walkman, he knew it was called.

He had figured out a way to get it to run on magic and had been highly rewarded for his brilliant idea. He stuck each small piece in his ear and opened it up, switched the disks, closed it and pushed a small button on the side. They could faintly hear the heavy metal music it was emitting, but they were used to it.

"Well, our obnoxious little brunette has zoned out." Chrissy said, gladly. "That reminds me, how do you like my hair?"

"You dyed it again?" Gage said incredulously. She nodded. Her short hair was now a dirty blonde, with brown streaks running through it.

"I don't get why you bother with your hair so much," Lacy said, looking at it. "You never really date, you don't have a boyfriend. Why does it matter so much to you?"

"I like to look good." she said, twirling before sitting at her desk, beside Gage's, who's was beside Stephen's. Lacy took her seat beside Lonnie, where her desk was. "Besides," Chrissy continued. "Your hair's down to your ankles, you can't tell me that's not hard to take care of!"

"I'm not allowed to cut it." she said. "It's against my religion. I can't dye it either, and I can't wear make-up, I always have to wear dresses and stuff… I can't do anything…" She had her mass amount of blonde hair up in a high ponytail. Sirius could never figure out why her neck didn't snap because of the pressure of holding her head straight all day. She indeed always wore the same kind of skirt, one that reached her knees, khaki colored.

"I don't get why you think you have to dye your hair." Gage continued.

"That's easy for you to say! What with your perfectly golden blonde spikes you have on everyday!" Chrissy said.

"I like my spikes." he said with a pout. He finished the soda in his hand and reached down again, this time bringing up a small package of doughnuts.

"And I don't see how you an eat so much and stay so skinny. You look malnourished and you eat like an elephant!" Chrissy said, eyeing the package.

"I work out every chance I get." he said simply, ripping the wrapper off of the package.

"Hmm… and yet you have no muscles and no six-pack." Lacy said, grinning. "I guess all that work goes toward all that fat burning you have to do. You really should eat better, I mean, your growth is so stunted, maybe it could be helped if-"

"Shut up!" he said, offended. He was, in truth, about a head and a half shorter than Sirius.

"Don't make fun of short people, Leggett." Lonnie said, grinning. "Chrissy'll have your head."

"Hey! I'm not near as short as him, your all just tall! Especially you, your like, six foot eleven or something!" she accused. He grinned wider.

"Actually, I am seven feet tall exactly."

"Could you guys please keep it down?" Sirius finally said, sitting at his desk, which was against the third wall, giving him a perfect view of the others.

They had given him the spot for being the Top Auror in his division, as well as the authority to order the others in his group around, with the exception of Stephen, only because he was the 'Communications expert.' All he did was record any and all progress they made and stay at the office to make sure they could be contacted by a ministry official.

They all fell silent, and the only sound was Gage's chewing and the music still coming from Stephen's headphones.

Sirius pulled the paperwork in front of him closer and tried to focus on it…. Gods, he was tired… 'By signing this decree you agree with the terms set for all…' What he wouldn't give for a good, long rest right now… 'In the action the said fugitive is caught…' So tired…

A feminine hand came into his view, and he looked up as a small paper cup with a thin, plastic lid was set on his desk.

"You look a bit tired." Came the whispered voice.

"Thanks," he said appreciatively, but very quietly. No one else noticed.

Behind him, she stood straight again and stepped around his desk, addressing the team. She was dressed in a loose black sweater and blue jeans, her usual accommodations.

"Alright now- Stephen? Could one of you-?"

"I've got it, Chief." Gage said. He reached over and plucked the pieces out of his ears. Stephen looked up at her, grinning an apology.

"Well, I'm glad to see you've finally joined us." she said. She sat on the edge of the side of Sirius' desk, (She almost always had to lean against something when she talked, out of habit, he supposed.) and flipped her chocolate brown hair to the side. Sirius sipped the coffee as he watched her. "I was going to talk to you about-"

She stopped as someone else stepped through the doorway.

"Rikku Sanchez?" he asked.

"What do you need?" she said irritably. She hated to be interrupted.

He gave her an appraising look. "You don't look like a Rikku Sanchez." he said simply.

"Excuse me?" she said icily. Her dark brown eyes narrowed at the man.

"Isn't Sanchez a Spanish name? Your not Spanish, your white."

"If your so curious, I was adopted, now what do you need?" Her tone was becoming more agitated.

"The Minister wishes to see you and your team."

"I-" She stopped. "The minister? Why?"

"How should I know?" he snapped. "He just told me to come and get you."

She sighed. "Come on," she said, turning her tall, slender form and motioning for them all to follow. "Let's go see what the Minister wants."

Remus Lupin sighed to himself, apparating back to Headquarters at old Grimmauld place.

"Nowhere to be found." he said sadly to Molly, who was waiting for him. She sighed as well. Much thinner than in her previous years, from stress and sometimes lack of time to eat, she looked rather different. She scribbled away on a piece of parchment for Dumbledore and rolled it, then sealed it and sent it off with the order's owl.

Everyone present- Mundungus, and a few of his 'friends', who couldn't search only because there were some that were searching for them, -was silent. He sat and stared at the far wall, feeling fatigued.

He had gone through a situation a bit similar to this when the wizarding world was searching for Sirius, before he knew the truth, and though he didn't know Harry that well, Sirius did, and just seeing the effect it had on the man was rather depressing.

"I take it you didn't find him." One of Mundungus's friends said.

"Obviously."

"Any idea where he could be?"

"None at all, if we knew that we would have found him by now."

She blushed. "Yeah, of course… sorry we can't help."

"That's fine." he said dismissively. He sat silently and tried to rid himself of the migraine that was making his head ache. He wondered how Sirius was doing, back at work. He wondered where Harry was, on the run, where he could be. Somewhere sunny? Somewhere dark and dreary? Was he infact already dead, or had he ran back to Voldemort? He was, after all, nothing more than a death eater, Voldemort's right hand man. A powerful death eater, and far more dangerous death eater, but a death eater nonetheless.

"Here," Molly said a few moments later, placing a plate of food in front of him. "You look hungry."

He thanked her and pulled the plate closer, but didn't make any move to eat. His thoughts were far too clouded. In truth, he felt like throwing a childish temper tantrum and thrusting the plate against the wall, screaming in anger and frustration. But, of course, he didn't. Something about being a werewolf had taught him a strong amount of self-control.

He sighed to himself and ate reluctantly, feeling overwhelmed. Damn, how much more of this was he going to have to take in one lifetime?

"Checkmate." Adam said proudly.

"What?" Connor cried, his eyes scanning the chess board. "Where?"

"There!" He pointed. Connor turned red.

"Oh. Didn't see."

They were interrupted as a sharp cry was suddenly audible.

"Percival- shush- I'll get him." Emily said, abandoning the game of Gobstones she was focused on. Callum sighed.

"I'll help. This game was getting boring anyway." They both stood and headed toward the baby as Emily picked him up, both attempting to hush him. He quieted down a bit, but remained awake, fussing around.

Luke and Benjamin took over the game where Emily and Callum had left off, just as Charlotte strode in, wiping the sweat off her brow. Her broom was in one hand and she had a Quaffle in the other.

"Been practicing," she said before anyone asked, even though it was obvious. "I swear I'm twice as good than last year. I'll make the team for sure!"

"Gryffindor will still win." Callum said. "We'll stomp you."

"You haven't been sorted yet!" Charlotte said, looking at him. "Your more Slytherin material, to tell the truth. Well, I better go take a shower…" she strode off, leaving both Callum and Emily rather nervous.

"I'm gonna be in Gryffi-dor." Bart said confidently. "I know I am."

"Of course, Bart. You want some more chocolate milk?" Emily asked. He looked at his cup.

"Still not finished." he said, swishing it around in his cup. They door was opened again and Sophie stepped through, looking angry and frustrated.

"Where's Charlotte?" she snapped, sitting down. She sniffed and looked around expectantly.

"I'd leave her alone if I were you, she'll get you into more trouble." Benjamin said. Luke nodded in agreement.

Sophie crossed her arms and sat angrily, not listening. "Is mom coming to pick us up soon?" she asked, sighing.

"Yeah, pretty soon."

Sophie sighed, leaning back on the couch. "I hate it here."

In a busy part of London, in a small coffee shop on the corner Cho ate quietly, glancing up every now and then at the passerby of men who would glance at her in a way that would make most women uncomfortable, though it only mildly annoyed her. The seventh man walked by, with short black hair, and he, just like the previous six, glanced at the Charms professor.

How, at a younger age, she would've loved to throw her coffee in the man's face. His eyes continued to travel along her outline, and the oh-so-familiar look in his eyes, the shine and glow, made Cho sure she knew exactly what he was thinking. She took another drink of her coffee and looked upward, and the man, most likely afraid she would catch him looking, turned away and pretended to be reading the cover of the paper in the small stand. He purchased it and leaned against the wall beside the coffee shop window.

Cho almost wished she had not worn the short black miniskirt that hugged her thighs so tightly, or the black flannel button up, with the buttons that only went so high and came down so low. Why did she dress this way? Hell, even she didn't know. She liked the attention, in a strange sort of way. She could see the man glancing at her continuously. She shifted her legs, from having her left on top of her right to having her right on top of her left, and looked down at what was left of the pastry she had been nibbling on earlier.

She heard the small bell ring as someone entered the coffee shop, and didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Excuse me," he said, and she saw his hand rest on the other end of the table. His voice was low, deep, and as she looked up at him, she saw it fit his demeanor rather well.

Though it was unable to tell from outside, he was very well-built, the kind of guy who probably worked out, without going overboard and becoming so muscled up he couldn't move properly, but not weak, not anywhere near weak, as even through his black cloak and whatever type of shirt he had on underneath, she could tell that all of his muscles must at least be well defined. His face was handsome as well, and he had the look of someone who had forgotten to shave in the morning, a rugged sort of look. His short black hair even fit him well.

"Yes?" she said, looking up at him, tilting her head a bit to the side.

"Is this seat taken?"

She shook her head and smiled at him. He smiled back and removed his cloak, throwing it onto the back of the chair. He was wearing a red t-shirt, and blue jeans.

'I was right,' she thought. He did have well defined muscles, and he was very handsome. He sat across from her and smiled at her, raising one eyebrow in a way that seemed to complement his appearance.

"There's a coat rack, over there." she said, nodding. He shrugged.

They talked of small, unimportant things, sometimes giving the other a smile or raise of the eyebrow, and sometimes flirting rather carelessly.

She noted that he had manners enough to look her in the eye as she spoke, unlike other men she had met, who seemed to find having a conversation with her breasts was more interesting than anything.

She finished her breakfast and coffee, and he stood to leave with her. He took her cloak from her hand and draped it around her shoulders for her as they stepped out, and she gave him a small smile as her reached around her torso to button it for her, lingering with his arms around her for only a split second.

"So," he said, falling in stride beside her. "Funny, how during our conversation, I never learned your name…"

She gave a small laugh. "Well, I never learned yours, Mister…?"

"King," he said. "Blake King. And yours, Miss?"

"Cho Chang," she said.

"Cho…" he said, as if thinking the name over. "Chinese or Japanese, right? Beautiful name."

She smiled at him again. He looked her in the eye with a similar one.

"Well, Cho Chang, can I ask, do you have anything planned for today? I'm only free for the next hour or so."

"I don't have any plans until later today." she said, thinking only for a second. "Would you like to just head around to a few shops? There are a few interesting places in Wizarding London, I've been searching around…"

Harry awoke to the sound of a scream, followed by a startled cry. He curled himself up in the soft sheets in the small bedroom, ignoring it, knowing it was the girl waking up and Charlie trying to quiet her. Harry had gotten a lot taken care of, and was now catching up on some much needed sleep.

He had spent time researching, planning, plotting, and he had been working as well, mainly brewing potions. (all of which were simply simmering, they required much more tending to.) He had finished quite a bit and had then taken time to shower, shave, and was now trying to catch himself up on rest…

The girl would not silence herself… he covered his head with the pillow, trying to block it out, but it was far too loud…

He finally stood, angry, and had to grab hold of the bed stand as he became dizzy. He shook it off and walked into the living room, switching the light back on.

"Quiet, Cassandra!" Charlie hissed as the light came on. She gave a funny sound, like a gasp, a cry, and a squeal all at once.

Then, as her sight fell on Harry, she screamed. Harry stepped forward, ignoring Charlie's cry, ("Please, don't hurt her!",) and, clamping a hand over her mouth, she was silenced. She hunched her shoulders, and her eyes became wide and tear-filled.

"Don't-hurt-her." Charlie panted, watching him closely.

Cassandra gave a muffled sob, and he could feel her trembling.

"Be. Quiet." Harry said in a final voice. "I am trying to sleep. I. Want. Silence."

She didn't move, but was still trembling violently. Charlie gulped audibly.

"Please, don't hurt her, please, don't." he begged.

"Quiet," Harry said, turning toward him, then turning back. "Now," he said to the girl. "You had better be quiet when I take my hand off. Understand?"

"Mm-hmm." was her muffled response. He took his hand off of her mouth. She swallowed and watched his hand carefully, as if she feared it would strike her at any minute.

"Harry- please man, let her go," Charlie said. "She doesn't know anything about anything. Let her-"

"Shut up." Harry said, in an impatient voice.

"Just let her go!" Charlie said in a demanding, ordering voice.

"QUIET!" he brought back a fist and struck him in the side of the face.

Cassandra almost screamed, stopping herself only when Harry turned with a threatening glare.

"Please don't hurt him, please, stop…" she said in a small voice. She squeezed her eyes tightly. "Stop it, please…"

He eventually lowered his fists, and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Just be quiet, that's all I'm asking, just shut up…" He looked at them both, at Cassandra, who was crying silently, to Charlie, who was staring at the floor, the side of his face red.

He stepped back out, switching off the light as he did so.

The next morning he awoke, (rather late in the day,) feeling for the first time in a long time, well rested. He changed out of the pajama's he had borrowed from Charlie, (After showering and shaving again; he had been in that filthy prison for so long he now adored the feeling of being clean,) and into blue jeans and a shirt he had also borrowed from Charlie. They didn't fit him that well, but with a quick swish of his wand they were just his size.

He stepped into the living room once more and quickly conjured a table of food, a variety of breakfast choices. He looked at Charlie and Cassandra. She had fallen asleep, and he was quiet, not to mention oddly still.

Harry stepped past Charlie and to the girl. He sensed more than saw Charlie's gaze fixated on him.

Harry muttered a spell, pointing his wand at her. Charlie tensed, but didn't say anything.

He undid the girl's chains and picked her up. She was limp in his arms, and completely unconscious.

"What- what are you doing?" Charlie said, finally gaining his nerve. He was ignored, as Harry carried the girl to the small couch and laid her there.

"I put a charm on her." he said. "When she wakes up in a few hours she won't be hostile or try to fight me, or she'll be pulled back onto the couch. She'll probably be hungry," he added, taking one of the plates and putting it on the table in front of the couch.

Charlie didn't understand. Why was Voldemort's servant acting this way?

Fifth Year, Ron's Explanation

"Ron," Harry said, interrupting their fight. "why did you have to attack Malfoy in the first place?"

Ron's face became serious. "He was being a git, that's why. Came up to us, started smarting us about the same old, my family's house, Hermione's heritage, and…" he stopped, as if contemplating what to say next. Hermione finished it for him.

"And started talking about your parents, Harry." she said. "Then, Ron talked back, and, well, Malfoy tried to sick Crabbe and Goyle on us, but Ron hit Malfoy before anything. They kind of just stood there, looking stupid for a few minutes, then they lunged at Ron, and did that," she pointed to his bloody nose. "They would've done much worse if I hadn't already screamed for the teachers."

"Yeah," Ron said, turning to Harry. "I got him in the nose, in the jaw, I landed my foot right in his ribs…"

"Ron!" Hermione said, scandalized, as they turned and started climbing the staircase to Gryffindor Tower. "Mrs. Malfoy's going to sue… and this time, you know the ministry's not going to let you off, because of-" she stopped.

Harry knew why. "Because of me, right?"

"What? No! It was because of… well, his dad, I mean, everyone knows he's sided with Dumbledore, right? There not going to like this…"

"I guess," Harry said. He knew, of course, that she was lying.

That night, Harry couldn't help twisting and turning in his bed, a nightmare haunting his dreams…

"Liar! Thief! I was Cedric's! You killed him, you murdered him, for me!" Cho sobbed.

"No, no, I'm not! I didn't!" Came Harry's own voice.

"LIAR!" she screamed. She continued sobbing.

Suddenly, she changed, now she was wearing the same robes he had seen on her at the Yule ball… Black, with what looked like silver glitter all over it… she bent down and picked something up off the floor… a mask.

She put it on, and it seemed to disappear into her skin. Her tear-stained, wet face was replaced by a happy, smiling one…

"Harry," she said, smiling at him. "Wanna dance?"

"Er- what?" he said, confused. Weren't they in the Room of Requirement?

No, no, the walls were melting, there was a bright flash of white light… they were in the Great Hall.

Music was playing, and couples were dancing all around them, but there seemed to be at least ten feet between Harry and the nearest person. Like they were in a gap on the dance floor.

Cho was about ten feet away as well, but far from any other couple.

"I said, do you wanna dance?" She was much nearer now, less than a foot away.

Without a word, he took her hand and waist, pulling her close, closing his eyes. She felt rather cold against him though, like she had been out in snow… wet snow…

He opened his eyes and pushed her away gently, to ask her about her strange decrease in body temperature, only to find her in her school robes, with her hair down, and her tear stained face back. Above him, mistletoe, and without looking, he knew he was back in the Room of Requirement. This was where they had kissed before Christmas break…

The mask lay on the floor behind her…

"I really like you, Harry." The familiar words echoed in his brain.

She was getting closer… closer…

She disappeared…

Everything disappeared…

Now it was clearing, a room full of people, all masked and robes, all working diligently, running around in what looked like a greenhouse with no light… no, it was just the time, it was late. People rushed around pulling flowers up, collecting certain petals or pieces of plants…

One of them approached from behind and bowed. Harry turned, curious as to who it could be.

"My Lord," came Snape's voice. "My Lord, we have found the location of the book."


	4. Kisses

Harry sighed as the potion he was brewing finally stopped bubbling, and the dark, sparkling purple changed into a disgusting, black-colored liquid that, as he raised the steel ladle, ate away at almost anything. He threw the ruined instrument away and put out the fire underneath the cauldron, a bit relieved the potion was done. It was the most unpleasant of all of them to make, it smelled, and a constant stream of hot, thick smoke always seemed to rise from it.

He didn't bother to conceal it or anything of the sort, as once the potion was made it couldn't ruin. He stretched, popping his vertebra, before turning to patrol the other potions.

He stopped at the potion for color change in hair, and added more crushed cockroaches, and intensified the heat underneath it by almost ten-fold. He picked up the cosmetic magazine once more and scanned through the instructions. Let simmer for an hour after adding the cockroaches and turning up the heat, then let set for another hour at room temperature before using.

He left that potion and walked to the one he had conjured to change the color of his eyes. He wasn't sure what color they would come out, either blue or green. A duller green would work just as well as a blue, just as long as it was a different one than his.

He added the salamander blood and the lacewings, stirring slowly. Drawing his conclusion from the amount of steam coming from the cauldron, he needed to let that sit for another three hours.

He moved past it onto the heightening potion, a rather more complicated one. It was fine, just needed to set for a few more hours, so he moved onto the last one, the one used to diminish his scar. He wasn't sure if it would be able to cover the scar on his forehead, but it would be extremely useful in covering the numerous other scars that covered his body.

That potion was already finished. He took a flagon of it, and, bracing himself, forced it down his throat, trying not to splutter and spit it back up.

It tasted like melted chalk. Yes, that was accurate, melted chalk mixed with… burning acid. He finished it and coughed, throwing the flagon down.

He waved his wand and the remainder of the potion disappeared, leaving the cauldron clean.

After the ordeal with the fretful Cassandra, time had passed slowly, as he spent most of it working on numerous potions and trying to gain as much information as he could from various magazines and newspapers without attracting attention.

He exited the room and closed the door behind him, feeling drowsy. The potion's side effects, he knew that was all it was, but still, he was feeling light-headed.

He managed to make it to the living room and fell lazily into one of the armchairs. Charlie himself was asleep as well, and Cassandra was laying on the couch in a daze. He couldn't think anymore as sleep finally overtook him.

Sirius rubbed his eyes, sighing in frustration. A few weeks before, the Minister had decided that since they had the _famous_ Sirius Black on their team, they could double their workload. Every single one had a thick stack of paperwork to do, and every other day they would head out to search, or in most cases nowadays, track down other criminals that had nothing to do with the Dark Lord.

He was losing sleep and his stress was mounting at a dangerous level. A few times, he had forced himself to head down to the Auror training gym and beat one of the punching bags until he could hardly stand to move from muscle strain… though he did always require a good, dreamless rest afterward.

He was at home, and even though it was his one day off the this week, he had far too much work to do to rest. He had started his paperwork first thing in the morning, and it was about two in the morning.

He signed the paper in front of him at the bottom and finally pushed the pile to the side, throwing the quill down. He pushed his chair from the desk and leaned back, and after a fruitless moment of trying to find any comfortable position, got up and went to bed, still trying to keep from stumbling as he walked.

He awoke, his alarm screaming annoyingly loud. Sirius curled up under his bedcovers and prayed it would stop, but after a moment of brooding on everything he had to do today, he finally got up, shutting the damn thing off as he did.

He dressed and washed quickly, heading to his front room (the only one that could be apparated in and out of) and disappeared to the Ministry with a loud cracking sound.

He entered the office. Everyone else was already there, even Rikku, who wasn't in her own office, instead sitting in Sirius' chair, chewing on the end of a quill while she read over a piece of parchment.

"Your late." she said pointedly when he approached.

"I know." he replied shortly, stepping behind her. "and your in my desk."

"Yes, I am, and I'm looking over your report. You seem to know a lot about old Pureblood families."

"Unfortunately. Mind if I sit?" he asked, a sarcastic edge to his voice. "I've got work to do."

"Don't have to be rude." she said, getting up.

"Someone's in a bad mood." Chrissy said pointedly.

He said nothing as he took his seat, though he sighed. Chrissy quickly imitated the sound, leaning back in her chair and putting the back of her hand to her forehead, feigning distress. Lonnie laughed softly, shaking his head, while the others grinned and rolled their eyes. "I'm joking." Chrissy told him, raising an eyebrow.

He was still silent as he pulled out another report. He needed to finish.

"Like I said." she retorted. "Bad mood."

Molly Weasley sighed to herself. She pulled the pictures of her grandchildren toward her and examined them closely.

Luke and Benjamin, Percy's sons. Just like he was, she thought. They loved reading, writing, anything of the sort. They both dreamed of nothing more than excelling to prove themselves to their parents, just like Percy had, before he let himself become blinded. She knew they would both go far. She smiled at the picture; both were fighting over a book from their father's library. The short red hair they were proud of, but no one mentioned their height unless they were trying to get them angry. She shook her head. They would grow, they just didn't know it yet.

She looked at another picture. This one had captured Adam and Connor, both wearing grins that only complemented the handsome look their bright red hair gave them. They were grinning because they had just set their sister off, no doubt. She was so happy when she heard her youngest son had fallen in love with such a wonderful woman as Hermione Granger had turned out to be.

She pulled the picture of Sophie toward her. The genes from her mother's side had given her hair big, bouncy curls, and bright blue eyes, though she carried the trademark red. Though her temper was rather easily set off by her brothers, she was a naturally good person.

She looked then at the photograph of Emily and Callum. Thy were only cousins, yet they were closer than most brothers and sister. Emily, with her dark skin and black hair, and her hereditary love for chaos, and Callum, with his long red hair, (he, like his uncle, refused to cut it) light complexion that never seemed to tan, and his handsome face he had received from the men in his mother's family. Both were tall for their age, and both were looking forward to working with their fathers when they graduated.

Her gaze fell on the pictures of Charlotte, her oldest grandchild. She was such a… well, she didn't know what to call her, but she certainly liked her share of attention from the opposite sex. Her mother, she supposed, had been like that. Her thick red hair was the only thing she got from the Weasley family; she had her mothers- well, everything else, not to mention that she was the first Weasley not to be in Gryffindor. She really was a sweet girl, though.

Molly had to grin as she examined the picture of Bart, sticking his tongue out at the camera. He would grow to be a strong one, she could feel it.

And Percival; too young to tell, she thought. Only five months old. But she had high hopes.

She felt melancholy falling upon her again. Hopes. That's all she had. That was all she had for Harry, too, and he had turned out…

She remembered the gradual change; remembered his girlfriend Cho's strange behavior before they had found out the truth, remembered his attitude problem as he grew older, remembered how there had never been an explanation for it. She remembered, how when she had started dreaming about grandchildren, she had dreamed of his future children and thought of them as her own. Blood wasn't everything; she had always thought of him as family.

She sometimes wondered if he knew how he had destroyed so many lives. Everyone had something to keep them going; her and her husband had their grandchildren. But what if he took those from her?

Ron had his career, his children, and his wife. What if those were taken from him?

Her other two sons, Bill and Charlie. Bill had his family, and Charlie had his career. What if those were taken as well?

The twins had their business, and their wives. What if those were taken?

Remus Lupin had nothing left but his best friend, Sirius. What if Harry took that?

And Sirius. She never could really figure out what kept him going. He had no wife, no family, no girlfriend, and his only real friend left was Lupin. He worked more than anyone she knew… he worked, she supposed, to keep himself from thinking.

Cho Chang, she thought to herself. She shook her head. She knew what kept that girl going. Revenge. That's all she wanted. Molly had heard rumors of the numerous men she'd had… relationships with, and rumors of the rumors the men told of her. She didn't know if they were true or not; she had gradually figured out, years before Harry had revealed his true self, when they had still been a regular couple, that they had already given their virginity to each other, but she didn't think Cho was the kind of girl to do the things the men always told their buddies in the bars.

She could feel tears falling, and she quickly brushed them away. She was tired of remembering the past. She wanted to focus on the future.

"School stars in a we- eek… School starts in a we- eek…" Luke hopped around the room, singing in a very uncharacteristic way.

"Do you think it's true?" Emily asked Callum quietly. He chewed on his bottom lip.

"I don't know. Dad won't tell me about the Sorting. I suppose we'll just have to find out for ourselves."

"But… there can't be a troll. Charlotte was making that up, wasn't she?"

"_I don't know!_" Callum said, shaking his head. "I guess we'll just have to wait. Stop talking about it!"

"Okay…" she said, looking at her feet, then at the window. "Letters should have come by now. Wonder what's taking them so long…"

"Dunno." Benjamin said, looking out of the window longingly.

Cho sat in her desk, in her classroom at Hogwarts, thinking to herself. She couldn't wait much longer; she was going to have to make sure the letters were sent out for the future students. But she couldn't do it without the supply list, which couldn't be made until Dumbledore found a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

She couldn't talk with him on the matter; she knew he was trying. She instead focused her free time on Blake, whom she had gotten to know rather well.

He was the same age as her, twenty-eight. His dream was to be a professional Quidditch player; she hadn't seen him play yet, but she doubted he had enough talent to make it professionally. It was rather sweet that he was still chasing his dream, yet…

"Alright." Harry said to himself. "Time to work this all out."

He braced himself. He had finished all of the potions, and taken them all. He knew his long, unkempt hair was a different color, as well as his eyes, not to mention he had shot up a few inches. He would still need to clean up a bit, but he was nervous to see the 'new him.' He stepped in front of the mirror.

He gasped.

This couldn't be him…

No, it couldn't be…

The mirror was broken, wasn't it?

His father's thin face had taken on a stronger jaw, a handsome one. His eyes, once emerald green and almond shaped, were a mix… the right a blue-gray, the left a faded green. His teeth were whiter, and his nose was bigger, though it fit his structure well. Leaning toward the mirror, he gasped when he saw a thin, almost invisible white line on his forehead. The scar hasn't disappeared all the way, just diminished to a faint, almost unnoticeable fracture of the skin.

His hair seemed to have grown itself out; four or five inches of a sickeningly golden blonde color, still with the black attached. He frowned at his posture. His arms and legs had gotten longer, and he walked with a slouch, much like Ron. He straightened up, smirking suddenly at how much taller he seemed. Intimidating.

He took a breath and tried to look calm. He glanced at himself, trying to memorize his features. He didn't want to be caught too early in the game by something as simple as hair color.

Days had passed. How many, Harry wasn't sure, but he did know there was only a week left until school started. He didn't have long, and he hoped that Dumbledore hadn't already found another teacher.

He looked in the mirror and repeated everything he had been memorizing; his new name, height, average weight, where he went to school, old friends and girlfriends, what he was like… it hadn't been as simple as he thought, coming up with at least a vague history for his alias, not to mention things like licenses and ID cards. But he had done it.

He walked back into Charlie's bedroom, checking and re-checking that he had everything packed. Robes, clothes, a few pairs of shoes, books, magazines, most everything an average person would have. He even cast a spell on his wand to change it's appearance; as long as he kept it away from old Ollivander, everything would be fine.

He looked at himself one more time in the mirror and sighed nervously. The thin, black leather eye patch was necessary. Strapped around his head, it was the perfect shape to cover the space on his forehead where the scar was, as well as his brighter eye. "This is it." he told himself.

He released both Charlie and the girl from their bonds; after, of course, he wiped their memory's and repaired everything in their home, erasing any trace that he had been there. He smirked to himself when he imagined their reactions when they awoke, confused and dazed, once again underneath the bear-skin rug. They would probably assume they had gotten drunk or something.

He managed to reach London with a mix of Apparating, walking, flying and muggle transportation. He continuously looked over his shoulder, expecting to see a flock of Aurors after him. He shuddered at the thought.

The hustle of London mid-afternoon muggles didn't even spare him the time of day, except perhaps to glance up at the leather patch and raise their eyebrows. He found his way to the Leaky Cauldron with no difficulty.

Entering, he pretended to look carefully around, as though he had never been there before. He tried to act ignorant but not stupid as he asked Tom if he was the barkeeper.

"Sure am, sir." he said, nodding once. "Would you like a drink? Or a room?"

"A room." he said, glancing up at the staircase. He picked up his suitcases and followed Tom, paying and accepting the key. Tom didn't even shoot him a second glance.

He walked into the room and shut the door, his heart pounding. Tom hadn't recognized him at all. He really hadn't. (The eye patch, he knew, was acceptable in the Wizarding World, not even considered strange.)

He set the suitcases on the floor; all had gone smooth so far. Now came the hard part.

Dumbledore.

_(Fifth Year)_

Harry awoke that morning, his dream still fresh in his mind. He was going to tell Ron as soon as Seamus and Dean had left for classes, but to his horror he realized that _everyone_ had already gone.

He had overslept!

He leapt up, throwing off his pajamas and quickly changing into his robes. He pulled on his socks and shoes as he rushed down the stairs, only to return once again to retrieve his schoolbooks.

By the time he reached the Great Hall, breakfast was nearly over. He quickly found Ron and Hermione, and was about to tell them about his dream, but stopped when he saw the looks on their faces.

"What?" he asked, confused. "Hermione, what's wrong? Ron?"

Ron handed him that morning's paper. Harry glanced at the cover and saw ten black and white photographs. He looked at the title, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

**MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN**

**MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT"**

**FOR OLD DEATH EATERS**

He didn't bother to read the rest. He tossed the paper back to Ron and hastily began explaining his dream to them, (just the part about Voldemort, however) and just as he had finished the bell rang.

"Hermione!" Ron cried, as she took off down the hall. We've got Transfiguration! Where are you going?"

"I'll see you later, guys!" she called out. "I've got to send a letter!"

With so much more to do- increasing amounts of homework that kept the fifth years up past midnight, secret D.A. meetings, and more strange dreams about a book and long corridors- January seemed to be passing alarmingly fast. Before Harry even realized, February had arrived, bringing with it wetter and warmer weather, as well as the prospect of the second Hogsmeade visit of the year. Harry had almost no time to spare on conversation with Cho since they had agreed to visit the village together, but Harry suddenly found himself at Valentine's Day, about to spend the entire day in her company.

Harry awoke the morning of the fourteenth, a strange feeling in his stomach and his scar prickling even more than usual. As he dressed, (being particularly careful) he blamed in on nervousness, but something still bothered him. He wasn't sure what it was, but after a few moments he felt rather sick.

"Harry, calm down." Ron said, looking at him as they headed down the boys' staircase. "I know you've liked her for awhile, but you've got to relax."

"What?" Harry said, taking a breath and looking at Ron. "I didn't say I was nervous."

"You pale and sweaty."

"Oh." he shrugged, laughing nervously. He felt sick to his stomach. "I guess I'm a little nervous."

He sat with Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall. Not many students were up yet; it was eight-thirty, but most students slept in late on the weekends. Hermione looked concerned as well, especially after he tried and failed to eat breakfast.

"Forget it." he said, shaking his head. The look and smell of bacon had his stomach churning. "I'll eat in Hogsmeade."

Just as he stood to leave, Hermione grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Wait!"

"What?" He turned and followed her gaze upward. A brown owl swooped down onto their table, flinging the hot cereal over Ron.

He screeched and jumped up, much to the amusement of those around him. Hermione ignored him ad snatched the letter from the owl.

Ron swore loudly and stormed out, dripping food behind him that several other post owls began flocking toward. Hermione read the letter in less than a minute before excitedly looking up toward Harry.

"Listen, Harry," she said quickly. "This is important… I need you to meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday, alright?"

"I don't know." he said thoughtfully. "What if Cho-"

"It's _important, _Harry! Bring her if you have to, but just _come!_"

"Why, though?"

"I haven't got time to tell you, but just be there, alright?" Before he could answer her, she rushed out of he Hall. Glancing at his watch, he realized with a jolt that it was only five minutes until nine. He rushed to the front of the Hall, ignoring the suddenly increasing pain that had began throbbing in his scar.

She was waiting by the door for him. He thought she looked very pretty with her hair pulled back, but he was far too nervous to say anything. They exchanged awkward greetings. Harry found it somehow difficult to listen to what she was saying as they left, the pain in his forehead sending a ringing to his ears.

"So… where d'you want to go?" he asked as they entered Hogsmeade. The High Street was full of students running up and down, messing about together or looking into shop windows.

"Oh… I don't know." she said, looking around rather nervously. "Let's just walk around the shops for a bit."

They wondered toward Dervish and Banges. A large poster had been stuck up and a few Hogsmeaders were reading intently. As Harry and Cho approached, they moved aside, and Harry once again found himself staring at the ten escaped Death Eaters. The sign read that a thousand galleon reward was offered for anyone who had information leading o their capture. The pain in his scar suddenly diminished.

"It's strange, isn't it?"

"Hmm?" Harry murmured, looking at her.

"I mean," she said in a low voice. "Remember when that Sirius Black escaped, and there were dementors all over Hogsmeade looking for him? And now, ten Death Eaters have escaped, and there aren't dementors anywhere…"

"Yeah, it's weird…" Harry's eyes were glued to the picture of Bellatrix Lestrange, a funny swirling in his gut. He shook himself as his palms started to sweat. "You wanna head to another shop?"

"Sure…" she followed him as he quickly turned and walked briskly down the street, the feeling remaining nonetheless. Every shop window they passed had had the same picture- and every time he saw it the strange feelings intensified. By the time they reached the end of the street, he felt as though he were about to faint, but something told him it wasn't stress or anxiety. It was something else.

Cho didn't seem to notice as she led him to a coffee shop up the street, a small place that was decorated horribly with pink bows and frills. Harry still managed a fake smile as they entered, ignoring the sudden shots of pain shooting through his body. What was happening?

There was one table left, beside the window. Harry frowned at Roger Davies, who was sitting with a pretty blonde girl, already with his tongue down her throat.

The pain had vanished, and Harry suddenly felt a strange sense of calm rest over him. Something seemed foreign, out of place… but he couldn't' quite place it. He didn't really feel like himself. I'm probably just nervous, he thought to himself. I need to calm down, or this date could be a disaster.

"I'll see you, Harry!" she sobbed, throwing down the napkin and flinging the door open. Harry could feel the surrounding stares as she stormed out, and his first thought was too let her go and sneak out without too much embarrassment; this thought, however, disappeared as quickly as it came.

He leapt out of his chair and followed her out of the coffee shop, squinting as heavy raindrops struck his face. He narrowed his eyes and spotted her outline, running down the street as fast as she could. She tripped on her feet, and fell to the ground. Harry was already rushing after her and he didn't slow down, even though it looked like she wasn't going to get up.

When he reached her, she was still on the ground, with her head in her hands, sobbing harder than before. Without stopping to think, he grabbed her and pulled her to her feet.

"What are you-"

"Listen to me!" he cried over the roar of the wind and rain. He didn't know if she could hear him. He spotted a nearby alleyway and quickly pulled both of them into it, stepping carefully so he wouldn't slip.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her eyes red as she turned around to glare at him. He grabbed one of her hands in his.

The wind was still howling, but the rain could hit them where they stood. "I wanted to apologize." he cried, his voice meaningful. He felt something like embarrassment after saying this. Where had this sudden surge of courage come from? "I shouldn't have been so ignorant… but, it's just…" he sighed. She looked up at him.

"What?" she asked, waiting anxiously.

"I don't want to forget, but, I don't want to have to remember all the time." he watched her carefully. "You know what I mean?"

"Kind of." she said, looking down. "I shouldn't' have made a scene. I'm sorry about that… I guess I could've been a bit more mature about that-"

She stopped talking; she couldn't. Unsure of what exactly he was doing (or why), he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her toward him, pushing his mouth against hers.

He didn't know what he expected her to do, but he was surprised when she suddenly went limp, falling against him. He managed (somehow) to seize his senses and pull away from her, gasping (both from sudden realization and from the feeling of the kiss) and muttered a pathetic apology. What was wrong with him?

Fear stabbed at his chest. He couldn't talk. He bit his lip and watched her, expecting to be slapped in the face at any given moment. He was unable to read her expression, but could only feel relieved when she (in place of striking him senseless) reached up and pulled him against her, in the same place they had been before. His heart almost flew out of his throat.

His first thought was to run, away from the awkward situation he had created, but something _forced_ him to stay, something _forced_ him to kiss her back, and something _forced _a small sound to erupt from his throat, a sound that was not quite a moan but something close.

Harry awoke the next morning to a heavy weight on his face. For a moment, he thought someone was smothering him, and pushed the pillow away, gasping for air. Hermione was standing beside his bed, and after a few seconds, she hit him across the face with the pillow, her expression livid.

"What the hell, Hermione-"

"Where were you?" she asked angrily. Behind her, Harry could see Seamus and Dean looking over their curtains, curious.

"What are you talking about?" he asked coldly, feeling his face to see if his nose was bleeding. It wasn't.

"I'm talking about Hogsmeade! You were supposed to meet me in the Three Broomsticks!" She hit him over the head with each work. "Where- were- you?"

He pulled the pillow out of her hands. "I forgot!" he yelled, glaring at her.

"Forgot? How could you have forgotten?"

"I-" he stopped. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck. He spoke in a harsh whisper. "I was with Cho, okay?"

"Right." she snorted, throwing her hands up.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked her, a suspicious tone in his voice. "What does that mean? You don't believe me?"

"Harry." she said, her arms falling limp at her sides. "You are hardly the type-"

"Hardly the type for what?" he demanded coldly.

"Hardly the type to forget about something so important because of a lunch date with a girl!"

"How the hell would you know?" he spat, throwing the pillow back into her arms. "Get the hell out of the boys' dorms before I call Professor McGonagall!"

"Harry," Neville said, rubbing his eyes and looking at him. "What the heck-"

"Hermione's just bothering us again." he said irritably, turning away from her.

"Fine!" she snapped, throwing him the pillow. "Never mind it, then! I was only trying to help you, Harry!"

"_Don't_ start crying again!" he added at her tone, turning back around to look at her. "It's not going to work!"

She didn't say anything. She simply turned, glaring, and stormed out of the room. He could heard Ron snickering.

"What are you laughing at?" Neville asked him, confused.

"I can see why Harry would be mad," he said sarcastically, yet amusedly. "I mean, I saw him sucking on Cho's face yesterday, and who wouldn't be in a bad mood after that?"

The other three burst out laughing as Harry blushed and closed the curtains. "Shut up!" he croaked. They laughed even harder.

"Aw, come on, Harry. Everyone saw you guys in the alleyway. You better get used to it."

Harry groaned again and pulled at his hair. Today was not going to be a good day.


End file.
